The Siren
by funnybutwise
Summary: The phantom does not know how to love, instead he knows hatred intimately. But he has a great longing to teach, to have a loyal companion, and a faithful servant. One day his wish comes true, only there is something terribly wrong with the child…
1. Chapter 1

Summary:

The phantom does not know how to love, instead he knows hatred intimately.  
But he has a great longing to teach, to have a loyal companion, and a faithful servant.  
One day his wish comes true, only there is something terribly wrong with the child…

Prologue:

Residing in the catacombs of the Opera house certainly had its perks, the hollow pipes of the plumbing gave a perfect echo of what sounds were playing above. Debienne and Poligny were scared witless of his messages. There was some rebelling in the beginning, but a dead rat on their dinner plate and a note attached to it was enough to quench their fire.

Sometimes Erik wished someone would defy him, simply because most men he met were spineless cowards, no sign of a backbone whatsoever.

With a tired sigh he rose out of his red velvet chair, putting his newspaper aside made his way towards the entrance of his residence, his steps silent.

Erik felt restless lately, a need to step outside and feel the fresh air overwhelming him at the most inconvenient times. He passed an oil lamp, his thin, skeletal body drawing a macabre shadow on the opposite wall.

Stepping out into the cold dark tunnels, he barely paid heed to the lake while walking down the sidewalk.  
Erik knew these tunnels as well as the back of his hand. A small creature ran out of one the sister tunnels,  
following in the man's footsteps.  
The phantom turned his head slightly, gave a lipless smile but never stopped in his brisk stride.

Ayesha was a joy to have, the grey feline was free and wild. Sometimes affectionate but often aloof.  
Erik adored her for being much less complex than humans, simply happy in her existence and never demanding more.

Soon the stars greeted him, bright companions in the darkness. Walking down a seedier part of the city

Erik knew his mask would scare of any riff raff senseless enough to bother him.

Turning around the corner of a dark alley, Erik was alerted by a startled cry of Ayesha. The cat's tail poked

Out from between two waste cans and was swishing rapidly.

Peering between them his golden eyes quickly spotted the small white face peeking from out of a white blanket. Despite Ayesha's curious patting, the figure remained still.

'Still born' Erik thought, a small sliver of a foreign emotion putting weight on his chest. 'What kind of mother throws her child away like rubbish?'

With a gentleness that was rather unlike him, Erik reached for the creature and held it to his chest.  
The baby's face hadn't turned blue yet, so it couldn't have been left for too long. The tall man never had held a human so small and fragile, with the curiosity of a lion that had found something new to paw at, Erik lifted an inhumanly thin finger and poked at the child's soft cheek.

Suddenly the creature opened its mouth and the sound that came out of it startled Ayesha into running out of the alley and Erik nearly dropped his newfound charge on the cobblestones.

The child was alive, but that wasn't what startled Erik. Golden eyes fell upon the creature with awe. Erik had watched mothers and their wailing burdens enough to know the irritating sound they normally created.

That was not the case with this one, out of its tiny throat rang a perfect A scale. The man's golden eyes closed up in rapture as his ears drank up the sound.

Slowly he turned out of the alley with his discovery in a possessive embrace, his feline companion in tow.

'An orphan with a talent many can only dream of' mused the masked man 'well isn't this perfect?'


	2. The siren

Chapter one: Beware

The catacombs were a place many feared to enter. Some foolish souls that had dared to continue further into their dark embrace never returned alive. Their soulless bodies were found floating face down into the sewer gutters outside the opera house.

'It's the siren' whispered Joseph Bouquet ominously to the tittering ballet dancers. Nervous eyes glanced at each other, a bit disbelieving but frightened by the events.

A smug smile came across the filthy man's face knowing he had an attentive audience. "You all know the phantom dwells bellow this theater, even occasionally stops by in box five to enjoy the plays."

A collective grunt of agreement answered his question, this was old news to the gossiping circles of the dancing girls. In the corner of the room a dark man in his 40's stopped by to listen.

"But there is another creature there, just as dangerous. While the phantom has the face of a rotting corpse, the other uses his to lure unsuspecting victims in its deadly embrace."

An exited murmur went through the crowd, this was new to them. The silent spectator glared at the speaker in warning but the man was too caught up in his story to notice.

"Oh yes ladies, the opera house has its very own siren. Taught by the phantom himself to snare any poor soul in its entrancing voice." The caretaker finished dramatically.

"What happens to them once they are caught?' asked a blonde girl with morbid fascination, her brunette companion looked ashen white.

"What a siren does best of course." The man drawled out, beady eyes looking at her from under greasy ringlets. "Drowning them"

"That is quite enough Monsieur Bouquet" called out the dark skinned man, his voice firm. "Your ghost stories tend to overdramatize things."

"Ghost stories monsieur?" Joseph looked offended at this accusation. "The phantom and siren are real as you and I."

The brunette girl gently pulled her friend along, feeling the conversation going downhill.

"I would be careful if I were you Mr. Bouquet, you would only enhance the phantom's wrath by spreading such wild stories." The man's mustache quivered with every sentence.

"Really Daroga, you would think that the phantom appreciates his legend being told." Joseph answered the man, still looking smug.

Daroga's thick black brows furrowed in displeasure. "Do not treat this matter lightly monsieur, you are toying with your life if you continue this."

Bouquet's face lost all humor at that. "Is that a threat?" he mocked. The two arguing men did not notice their audience slowly moving along.

"Take this advice in any matter you like, don't say I didn't warn you." With that the Indian turned his back on the opera's caretaker and left into the hallway.

The Frenchman stood a bit bewildered before turning to the back of the main stage, climbing upon the ladder to have a better overall view. He didn't notice the shadow moving to his right, sea green eyes sharp and glowing watched Joseph bending over the fence to pull up a rope.

Getting back up Joseph took a pause to wipe the sweat from his brow, leaving a smear of filth. A small chuckle, lovely as a silver bell rang out and echoed on the walls of the opera.

Confused, a bit disturbed Joseph looked around but found no one in the darkness.  
"Joseph." Sang a voice softly, clear as glass.

Turning around the Frenchman gave a startled gasp and took a step back. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, a soundless scream was wretched from his lips as the creature smiled. It was hanging over him like a spider, long lavender hair a silken curtain under its magnificent face.

Before Joseph Bouquet was his very own siren.

Full lips smiled to reveal sharp teeth, a hungry green gaze from a striped cat lying in tall grass.

Pale hands, bones thin as a bird's wing held amazing strength as they circled the man's neck.

"Did you believe that, Riho?" A blonde haired ballet dancer asked her friend. "A siren sounds wicked."  
Her maroon colored eyes held an exited light, she did not seem disturbed by the events.

A girl with long auburn hair sat next to her on a blue colored bed, they had been roommates for 3 years and inseparable since then.

"I don't know Guni, it scares me to think something like that could be living under us." An image of a pale blood thirsty creature looming over her bed came to mind. A cold shiver ran over the chorus girl's spine at the thought. Ever since losing her parents, she had been shy and cautious around people, her energetic friend had labored years to draw Riho out of her shell.

"Is having a phantom not enough?" She asked in desperation, face tilted upwards to the ceiling as if it would come up with an answer.

"Tell me about it," sniggered Guni, lying down on the mattress, her short pink dress riding up displaying white thighs unlike her friend she was immodest about showing her body. "If this keeps up the place might as well be opened as a haunted mansion."

"I don't know what's so funny about that." Riho asked in displeasure, her thin arms wrapped around her own waist in an attempt to keep warm. Lately this place seemed so cold, a constant chill hung around the room.

Guni gave an eyeroll. "You are such a wuss, Riho." Ignoring the indignant squawk her friend made, she continued. "We don't have anything to fear from the phantom or this supposed siren as long as we don't enter the underground layers of the Opera house."

The opera was immensely popular in Paris, the bass-baritone was loved among the aristocrats of society.

Le soleil had a well-trained voice, only his passion left something to be desired.  
It was a known fact that the phantom despised the man and had no qualm to let it show.  
This morning however Cain had decided that enough was enough.

With a disgusted sniff at the rats running over his toilet table, Cain quickly put on a velvet black cloak.  
He gracefully strode towards his carriage, violently bumping a vendor aside. Making no note of the man as Cain stepped inside.

The vehicle was made for swiftness and soon enough Cain had reached his destination. Nearly stepping into a puddle as he made haste towards the entrance of the building.

Soon the familiar hallway came into view with its impressive marble stairways and massive crystal chandelier. Barely taking note of the servants greeting him, the flaxen haired man opened the door that was entitled with Mr. Montcharmin.

Inside sat a small grey haired man at a large massive oak desk, a pile of documents to his right.  
His quill stopped scribbling as he looked up.

Eyes widening in surprise, the man nearly sprang from his chair and fussed over his mustache before plastering on a large smile.

"Monsieur, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this fine morning?" simpered Montcharmin.

Cain's usually handsome face held an ugly scowl. "A fine morning to you perhaps Firmin, but I am most displeased." A gloved hand a note on the man's desk.

With concern Firmin noted the letter had a skull ingraved into the wax seal. He knew who it represented.

Carefully as if being afraid to be bitten by it, he opened the letter, his eyes quickly skimming the content.  
A frown appearing on his already wrinkled face.

"I shall see to it that Daroga receives this Monsieur." Answered the man briskly.

Sharp brown eyes narrowed in displeasure. "Do you still keep that idiot employed?"

"Apparently so, Monseiur." Answered a deep voice from behind. The primo uomo's mouth was gaping a bit before he remembered closing it. The daroga had a way of moving without sound.

"Does this displease you?" The man cocked an eyebrow at this.

"In fact it does" the blonde snarled at him, Cain had something akin to a snake, a venomous core.  
"For months this murderous psychopath has been making my life hell but you have not even caught wind of who threatens me."

"Perhaps I have monsieur, but if I had" The detective gave a small smirk. "I'm not so keen to share information now."

With a great scoff, the bass turned his back to Daroga, Firmin who had started to show a sheen of sweat gave a small cracked laugh.

"I assure you Cain, that we both have your best interest at heart." Firmin pointedly looked at Daroga as he said the last part.

"I doubt that, I'm sure that if we had a competent detective working this case the culprit would have been caught ages ago." Cain glared haughtily at the dark skinned man. Daroga simply smiled pleasantly in response, "while we're talking about competence, I noticed a small increase of ticket sales during your two week leave."

Blond waves of hair flew about as Cain whipped his around to the detective. "How dare you, you insolent peasant!" with a furious look he slowly made his way towards Daroga.

Mr. Montcharmin looked about ready to faint. An interruption of the men's quarrel saved him the bother. A servant pale and thin ran through the front door, a mortified look on his face.

"Please forgive me the interruption monsieur, but this is urgent!"

The stage was impressive to behold. A huge crystal chandelier hung high above it, sitting boxes covered in golden statues looked down upon the hundreds of red velvet chairs.

But that wasn't what held the spectators attention, strung on a rope was the lifeless body of Joseph Bouquet hanging from the stage bridge. Pale eyes wide in horror and mouth still open in a soundless scream.  
A few cleaning workers whispered to themselves as many elder dancers held the youngest back from looking.

While Montcharmin had to balance himself on the servant, Daroga sent the small mob scurrying back to their tasks.

"This has gone too far!" both men turned around towards the opera singer, who furiously pointed upwards to the corpse. "You expect me to perform here while there is a killer out for the cast?"

"Monsieur-" Firmin began, "No, Mr. Montcharmin I have made up my mind. As long as this fiend hasn't been captured you are short one primo uomo." With a dramatic swing of his cloak Cain turned his back to them and left the stage hall.

The Indian still had his eyes upon Joseph, while he spoke to Firmin. "While I do not appreciate the diva's drama, he has a solid point. The opera has become house to a murderer, no one is save."

Forcefully Firmin pushed himself away from the pale servant, "This is a disaster, the leading singer walks out, my spritzer turns up dead. At this rate I might as well close the theatre!"

"It would seem for the best Mr. Montcharmin "replied Daroga, his dark eyes solemn.

In box five looming above the two men, a pair of fierce amber eyes watched the spectacle from the shadows.  
A satisfied smile came upon cracked dry lips, the time had come for his apprentice to make his debut.


	3. The Voice

Chapter two: The Voice

Two weeks had passed since the bouquet incident and life at the opera house was chaotic.  
Firmin's pleading letters towards Cain's address had returned unanswered, resulting in a contest between the cast for the leading role.

But Le Soleil's popularity was obvious, the ticket sale had been reduced to only half its amount.  
The local newspapers displayed headlines of a mysterious killer terrorizing the leading singer.  
Firmin sat dejected in his office looking at his sales rate.

"A siren luring everyone here doesn't sound too bad." He said to an empty chair facing him.

A soft knock on the wooden door shook Firmin from his thoughts. "Enter" He answered still looking at the chart.

"Good evening, Monsieur." A voice soft and entrancing made him look up, his eyes wide in wonder.

"What use are these rehearsals?" grumbled Guni as she bent down her right leg in a stretch  
"This place will be closed in a few months anyway."

"The show must go on, as Mr. Montcharmin would say." Riho answered as she tightened the ends of her red shoelaces.

"Yeah, just don't be surprised if one of us winds up dead at the end of it." The blonde replied snappishly.  
The other surrounding dancers paled and hurried up at the stage.

"Hush Guni, we'll get in trouble." Chocolate brown eyes looked around nervously. A new figure entering the stage drew her attention.

"Everyone employed here is already in trouble, if you hadn't noticed." Guni turned around to glare at the brunette, but noticed Riho was not listening. She looked to be in a daze, eyes glossy and transfixed on something behind her.

Looking up, it was quickly obvious what caught Riho's gaze. The dancers surrounding the man seemed to be caught in the same spell.

At the front of the stage stood a tall and handsome man. Long lavender hair, pale skin and expensive waistcoat, he seemed born of high society.

His limbs were long and elegant, his sea-green eyes narrow and sharp, his face as exquisite as the most perfect fae imaginable.

"Are you ready, Monsieur?" called out the Maestro, the musicians waited in silent anticipation. Next to the maestro stood Firmin Montcharmin, excitedly rocking back and forth.  
'He looks like a mouse in front of a block of cheese' Guni thought, a small spark of amusement always flew through her when she saw the Director.

The man gave a small nod, stoic and regal. His back was straight and hands folded behind his back  
'He seems instructed for a proper stance' she observed absentminded.

As the orchestra began, it seemed strange that they immediately skipped to the final scene.  
It was the il commendatore scene of Don Giovanny, a piece that was obviously chosen for Le Soleil's vocal range.

The man's eyes closed in rapture, his head tilted sideways that was reminiscent of a cat.  
"Don Giovanny, a cenar teco…" rang a voice from full lips, orotund.

All who was were close enough to listen held their breath as that voice continued,  
resounded through the room walls, "m'invitasti, e son venuto."  
It was heavenly, spreading through the mind and body like wildfire, holding you in its seductive embrace. Time seemed frozen for the on watchers, no one moving a single muscle.  
Until the scene ended and the man stopped singing, slowly the lifeless seeming people regained feeling in their body. Regaining strength that was sapped out of them from an unknown power.  
The voice they had heard was divine, terrifying in its beauty, it was…

"Irresistible" whispered Riho softly. This startled Guni out of her daze, she had forgotten her friend during the performance.

"Oh, marvelous Mr. Shido! Absolutely wonderful!" shrieked Firmin with tears in his eyes. 'Or dollar signs.' Guni would argue. 'His business is saved.'

Slowly with the grace that was bestowed upon aristocrats, the man now identified as Mr. Shido made his way towards Montcharmin.  
"I understand you have a play planned tonight Mr. Montcharmin?" his words smooth as honey.

"Please call me Firmin, and yes but we can reschedule them to a later date if you wish Mr. Shido." The greying man was simpering now, nearly bowing over in admiration.  
"It is fine" came the steady reply. Mr. Shido raised a hand sofly as if to both placate the man and to keep him at a distance. "I know the play by heart. If you don't mind I will retire for a while to prepare myself."

Firmin nodded furiously, still beside himself with joy. "Yes, yes of course. I shall have a servant lead you to a private chamber."

"Please." With a polite nod towards the orchestra the new leading singer exited the theater hall, director in tow.

2 seconds later the whole ballet group exploded in a yelling, exited mess.

"Who was that?"

"He's gorgeous!"

"Where the bloody hell did he learn to sing like that?"

"Le Soleil will better watch his back!"

"Alright that's enough, you gossiping fishwives!" Yelled the Maestro "Get back to practicing."

Guni was right, the opera was indeed saved from closing it seemed.  
During the performance Mr. Shido brought the same magic upon the audience, resulting in a standing ovation that continued for at least 10 minutes.

At the after party the remaining guests swarmed the man, hoping to meet this mysterious new addition to the company.

Shido was charming and polite, his mellifluous voice answering each question with patience.  
Between the crowds came a short greying man, with great difficulty he managed to reach the young man standing at the center.

"Excuse me, I say, Excuse me!" Firmin finally silenced the guests. "I'm sure you are all eager to meet our newest star, but there are some urgent matters we need to discuss."  
There was a mixture of disappointed noises.

"Please do enjoy the rest of the evening, good night ladies and gentlemen."

Turning towards the lavender haired man, Firmin made a gesture towards the exit of the ballroom.

"I believe we have a contract to discuss Mr. Shido."

A satisfied grin played on the grey haired man's lips, had he paid more attention to his companion he would have seen a small malicious glint in the other's eyes.

The mansion was an impressive building among the forest, a dark haired lady knocked softly on the dark huge gate. Very soon an old, chagrined looking man answered.

"May I help you Madame?" He grumbled. "Yes, I've come to speak with the Count." She softly replied.

"My master is detained for the moment, shall I leave a message?" He seemed even crankier mentioning the lord.

"You may tell him Lady Matsunaga is waiting for him, with news about the Opera house." The man did not reply and simply closed the gate. After a few minutes she heard his heavy footsteps.

He opened the gate wider this time. "The master waits in the common room, Madame."

Both servant and guest walked through the extravagant halls, they passed a huge tapestry showing an image from a medieval war. Several marble statues watched them pass with unseeing eyes.

A deep rumbling chuckle and a higher pitched giggle met their ears as they passed a corner.

Stopping in front of the door, the servant made a show of knocking quite loudly. "Come in." Answered the low voice from before.

The scene that played before her was not surprising but amused her al the same.

A blonde haired man was lounging on a fauteuil, a glass of wine in one hand and his shirt unbuttoned as a lovely youngster sat on his lap.

With a smirk the man looked at his visitor. "Ah, Lady Yayoi to what do I owe the pleasure of your company." He said with a lazy drawl.

"News Count Cain, about the theater." She answered. With a small scoff the man turned away in disdain.

"If that murderer was caught I would have read it in the newspaper, so what else could possibly interest me in that mad house?"

He bend over to whisper in the young man's ear, the boy flushed and giggled once more.

Fighting to show the small spark of irritation at the dismissal, Yayoi continued.

"Apparently a new opera singer performed tonight, his debut was a huge success."

"WHAT!" Cain cried out in rage, shoving the boy of his lap who fell onto the ground with a yell.

Yayoi continued calmly as if the man's glare wasn't boring into her. "Such a success that Mr. Montcharmin had him sign a contract right away."

"How is this possible? I'm the reason the opera is running, everyone adores Le Soleil not some plebian trying out for the stage!" Yayoi was fascinated how his face was slowly turning a compelling shade of red.

"A very beautiful man dressed richly is what I had heard." Yayoi replied with a small smirk on her full red lips, how she loved causing up a stir!

Cain ran a trembling hand through his golden curls as he stared at the many family portraits hanging at the wall.

The haughty look of a blonde haired women greatly resembling the count made him take a calming breath.

"I am returning to the opera house first thing in the morning, this interfering fool will be taken care of soon enough." He growled out like an angry lion, the boy on the ground cowered back into the fauteuil.

With a haste that was uncommon for the usually collected creature, the lavender haired man moved along the moist tunnels of the catacombs.  
One wrong step and he would drop into the cold water streaming towards the outside of Paris, but the man knew this place better than any rat scurrying about.

Into one of the mighty stalagmites dropping low enough to reach, he pressed a hidden button. With a loud click what seemed to be a closed wall revealed a wooden door.

Entering the dark room gave the man a great relief, finally away from those crowing vultures his master warned him of.

His sanctuary was alight with golden chandeliers, hundreds of candles providing the only light in the room.

Many red curtains hung on the wall, keeping the cold at bay and many paintings with sights of places he could only dream of visiting.

A small yowl rang from the huge fireplace, in front of the fire stood a velvet red stool. On top of it sat a slim grey cat, a magnificent collar filled with diamonds glittered around its neck.

"Good evening Ayesha, were is our Master?" He demurely greeted as if she was an old friend.

Skye blue eyes blinked at him before she jumped from her comfortable place and walked towards a different room.

A very thin man sat in front of an organ, the silver pipes reached into the darkness. He was scribbling on parchment, surrounded with staples of compositions.

One would find the large black coffin resting in the right corner rather morbid, but to the present company it was no strange sight.

The young man waited patiently for the other to notice his presence, he had learned at a very young age not to disturb the composer when he was in an inspired mood.

After a while has passed in complete silence but the scratching of a quill on paper, the tall man finally stopped his writing and stood up. With a nearly silent groan he bend his back to relieve an ache.

The man turned around to view his charge, sharp amber eyes glowing from behind a white porcelain mask.

"I trust everything went as planned?" Came a deep breathtaking voice from pale raw lips.

The younger man bowed "Yes, maestro. I have secured a place among the staff."

"Marvelous, it won't be long now before I can enjoy the fruits of my labor." The skeleton man said with satisfaction. "Well done, Shido."

The lavender haired man bowed once more in gratitude. "Maestro." He whispered with reverence.

An impossibly thin hand came to rest upon his head.


End file.
